Follow Me Down
by Kandakicksass
Summary: Four years ago, Uchiha Itachi was sold to a strip club and now, his little brother and uncle have found him. But he can't just pretend they're not there- because Madara is an important patron, and it is Itachi's job to satisfy him! For RedMoonLight009!


**Inspired by: Follow Me Down by 3Oh!3 ft. Neon Hitch**

**Dedicated to: RedMoonLight009**

**Warning: Stripper!Itachi, Incest (sorta), slash. I cannot stress that enough. SLASH, SLASH, SLASH! Please do not ignore this, read this story, and be like WTF that was gay porn! Well, no shit. I warned you.**

**General about-the-story: AU in a Japan with different laws—primarily, ones that allow slavery and 14 year olds in strip clubs. **

Uchiha Itachi was in hell.

He wasn't sure if he meant that literally as of yet, but he was _almost _positive. His whole body was trembling and he could feel another headache coming on. He had never known before Fugaku had sold him that stripping was difficult with a headache, but it was.

Then, out of nowhere, a glass of water with a tin of aspirin balancing precariously on its rim was set on his vanity. He looked up at his smiling friend wordlessly.

"I could tell by the way you were rubbing the bridge of your nose," Konan said softly and Itachi could tell her familiar smile was sympathetic.

"Thank you," he murmured, taking the medication gratefully.

Konan—no last name, like many of the dancers at Follow Me—was twenty-three, beautiful, with shoulder length blue hair and somber indigo eyes. At the moment, she was moderately dressed for a stripper, wearing a bikini top (that was likely a simple bra, but Itachi felt intrusive thinking that) and a pair of gym sweats.

Itachi felt rude, scrutinizing her outfit when he himself was dressed in far worse. He looked down at his black and red corset with its little off the shoulder sleeves and identically colored, very short, skirt that covered his string-tie black thong. The snaps were covered by a tie that was accompanied by a collar, like one from a button-down.

He scraped the heels of his platform stilettos on the soft red carpet anxiously. He gave himself one last look in the mirror. He was completely made up, his hair in a perfect disarray, his lips ruby red, his dark crimson eyes appearing huge and mysterious with the right combination of eyeliner, eye shadow, and mascara.

"When do I go on?" he asked Konan, who was making sure her own makeup was perfect. She had already performed, but she was meeting with a customer soon; Itachi could tell by the faint signs of stress in her deep blue eyes. "The new schedule is confusing."

Konan thought for a moment. "You go on after Deidara."

Itachi tried not to make a face; that meant he was up next.

Distracting him, Konan spoke again. "I'm getting worried about him. Deidara, I mean. He's not eating."

Itachi looked away. "He has no appetite and if you haven't noticed, he's not sleeping, either. We're all worried."

She sighed, turning around to lean back against the counter. "Not anything new in our profession."

Itachi, however, snorted bitterly, standing as he heard the cat calls signaling the end of Deidara's show. "Profession? We're slaves, Konan, we have been since our parents sold us here. This is not a profession," he told her quietly, giving her one last glance over his shoulder before he left.

Itachi wished he could say that he'd never gotten used to life at Follow Me, that he still had his modesty, that he still felt uncomfortable parading around naked or nearly naked in front of a bunch of perverts, but it simply wasn't true. His modesty had flown out the window years ago and the clack of his high, red-lined black heels was disturbingly familiar. He stood just behind the curtain, waiting for the call. Suddenly, the curtains fluttered and the blonde burst out, tears already streaming down his face. He knocked into Itachi in his haste to get away, but Itachi couldn't feel any anger. Only pity.

"And now, please welcome one of our best boys, the ever-alluring Scarlet!"

Itachi may not have been the most popular dancer in the club, but it was close. If anything, it was a tie between him and Deidara, who was liked for his "innocence" and feminine qualities. Itachi was loved for his beauty and talent. He had overheard many times from other dancers that for such a sweet boy, he really knew how to work the erotic façade. He wasn't sure if it was an insult or a compliment.

He tried to remember that, to retain the sweetness that made him the kind, thoughtful young man he was, but as usual, it slipped away, and the part of him who accepted the whore his future would force him to become took over.

He stood there cutely, giving the crowd a flirty smile. Taking a step forward, he turned into a spin, twirling his way center stage, where his pole stood, flashing black and red light. He stopped, a hand on the pole, a dimpled smile on his face, and… _froze._

_NO!_

He faltered only for a moment and the crowd didn't notice. But them—they noticed.

His brother, his precious, darling little brother, was sitting there with their Uncle Madara, both of them looking dumbstruck. Appalled, even, and Itachi could see the fury in Sasuke's eyes. he would have worried had not he known instinctively that Sasuke's anger was at their father.

And Madara had a look of twin horror on his young face, being ten years younger than Fugaku, his eyes glued to his disowned nephew.

In the couple of seconds he had to take in the terrible situation, he noticed something far worse than his brother and uncle in the crowd: his boss- his owner—standing behind his brother and uncle, pointing to Madara with a vicious look Itachi knew only too well.

_He's a valuable patron!_

Underneath his sultry expression, he felt like crying, because he knew exactly what he had to do.

He curled one perfectly manicured hand around the pole, ignoring the sound of his heart thundering in his ears, ignoring the look on his brother and uncle's faces as he danced. After all, this was his life now. They should have known that; after all, it was their own kin who had sold him.

While he danced, he could think. His clothes were to come off later, so just then, he only had to worry about making sure the guy he was currently smirking at didn't jump onto the stage and dry hump him in front of the entire club. But then, it wouldn't be the first time.

So he thought, about his family. The innocent ones sat in front of him now, but somewhere else, the guilty one was living in luxury, enjoying the money he'd obtained by selling his firstborn son. His mind wandered to Deidara, who was probably off crying somewhere.

And Itachi couldn't blame him. He still cried sometimes, too. He wondered what was worse, the betrayal of being sold by family, or the betrayal of a lover, like Deidara.

_'I trusted him. Loved him, even. Yet first chance he got, I found myself here, and he was off buying a new whore.' _

Itachi grimaced as the most important part of his routine came up. One slender hand came up to the band of the tutu, but his boss glared at him and pointed to Madara. Itachi wanted to scream or throw a fit, but he knew that would end only in pain.

So instead, he loosened the tie, puling it and its collar off, tossing it to a particularly horny older man a couple men down from his uncle.

_'I'm so sorry, Madara-oji-san.'_

He hopped from the stage onto the chair Madara sat in, his heels on the edge of the cusion on either side of the man's knees. Had he not done it a thousand times before, he might have fallen.

But no. Trying not to cry, he dropped to his knees, sitting himself in Madara's lap. Said Uchiha was blinking at him in open-mouthed surprise, fear and—oh god—_disgust _in his lovely red eyes, so similar to Itachi's own.

"The corset," he whispered. "Just undress me and it will be over. Please." Itachi placed his hands on Madara's, moving them to the front snaps. They shook and he had to help the fumbling man.

"Itachi," he whispered. There were no other words. Itachi shook his head.

Madara's large, strong hands had gotten their act together and were slowly unsnapping the tight corset. Itachi realized then how loud the crowd had gotten. Yet even over the multiple cat calls, he could hear his brother's horrified silence and that killed him.

"Now the skirt," he murmured, resisting the urge to break down and beg Madara to take him away. Madara paused for a moment, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Itachi took a breath of his own. How could he not? He was sitting in a skirt, half naked, in the lap of his own uncle, the same man who had taken care of every bruise inflicted by his father. Even worse, the warm breath from said uncle's exhale had hit him _just so_ in the cold room and arousal had budded within him, hardening his nipples.

Fortunately, his cock was still flaccid, but he knew it wouldn't stay that way for long.

"The skirt," he repeated, hating the blush that was likely staining his cheeks a fetching shade of cerise. Madara's no longer unsteady hands slid from where they had sat on his dainty waist after the corset had fallen away to the elastic band on the tutu and Itachi cursed his sensitivity as his cock stiffened slightly. In that position, it was foolish to hope Madara couldn't feel his sex thicken.

Itachi had to shift in order to allow Madara to slide the skirt off his long, creamy white legs. Itachi watched, morbidly fascinated, as Madara's hand slid down his leg, pushing the skirt over his fishnet stockings and heels.

Itachi felt his own breath hitch, but he still had a job to do. He raised his leg to kick the skirt off, effectively giving the crowd a good view of what the thong did little to hide.

Itachi shifted again, straddling Madara once more, his lips hovering over his uncle's.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice cracking halfway through. "Make sure you tell Sasuke, too." Then he rose, jumping back onto the stage before he could be grabbed, twirling around the pole like it was a dance partner. In a way, it was.

His boss now had a satisfied smirk on his face and nodded at Itachi before turning around and retreating to his office. That meant Itachi could strip down to his fishnet and heels and leave.

He did so, gladly, but the relief was bittersweet. He didn't want to strip fully, not in front of his innocent little brother and kind uncle, but he had no choice. He undid one knot, then the other, and the thong fell away, exposing his beautiful body to everyone present.

He barely saw his little brother's jaw drop before he turned with one last faked, flirty smile and flitted behind the curtain. The second his body was hidden from view, he fled to his dressing room. He had never cried directly because of a set, but he was now, the tears streaming down his face in crystal rivers.

"Itachi—" Konan croaked, emerging from a room, still in the process of slipping on her robe. She had the faint trace of tears on her cheeks as well, but something told Itachi that hers were of physical pain, and not the mental anguish he himself felt. "Itachi, what's wrong?"

"I don't want to talk about it," he blubbered, bolting into his room and slamming the door shut.

The minute the door shut behind him, Itachi slid to the ground, slumping against the heavy mahogany wood. Hot tears ran down his face as he curled in on himself, broken. He felt so dirty.

When his tears had run dry, the propped himself up and stood on his traitorous, unsteady legs. He sat himself at the vanity and rubbed at his damp cheeks with a wash cloth.

Then, painstakingly, he re-did his makeup. He had been made aware he'd been reserved after the last show—Sasori, one of the only strippers at Follow Me who didn't mind his predicament. Itachi looked back over his reflection. Other than his already red bloodshot eyes, no one would be able to tell been crying. Leaning down, he pulled his heels and stockings off, tossing them to the opposite side of the room, in the empty corner facing the futon.

He covered his nude body with a robe and stood just as a soft knocking reverberated through the room.

"Come in," he called, pleased his voice did not betray his earlier torment. The door opened to reveal Madara. He wasn't surprised; he had already figured that his unaware customer was his uncle.

"Hello, Madara-oji-san," he greeted him, his voice soft and exhausted.

"Itachi." Madara's voice trembled. "So this place is…"

"Where Otosan sold me? Yes." His gaze did not waver in the slightest. Madara watched him for a moment before, all at once, he relaxed.

"Oh, Itachi-kun," he sighed. "I am so sorry." Itachi shrugged, appearing nonchalant, but the emotions raging inside of him were anything but. He crossed his long legs, leaning against the counter.

"It's not like you're the one who sold me, oji-san… what have you to apologize for?" he asked, but it was obviously a rhetoric question.

"You've grown up well," Madara murmured. "You're… a very handsome young man."

The air in the room shifted and Itachi could feel a slight flush creep up on his cheeks again. "Yes, well, that's why I'm so popular. Sometimes I wish I wasn't."

"Don't say that," Madara objected without thinking.

"Why are you here, Madara-oji-san?"

Madara sighed, finally walking in and shutting the door behind him. "Sasuke's fourteenth birthday. Your father sent me to "awaken his masculinity". I don't think he realizes his youngest son is as gay as his oldest."

Itachi gasped as he realized the implications of what his uncle had said hit him, throwing his body into motion. he slammed into his uncle, fisting his dark red button down. His crimson eyes bored into Madara's. "You mustn't let Otosan find out," he said in a low voice. It wasn't a request. "You cannot let Sasuke wind up here."

Madara's expression didn't change. "Sasuke and I have already spoken about that. We have no plans to inform your father whatsoever."

Itachi breathed a sigh of relief. "Please, oji-san, please, don't let Sasuke get sold."

Madara nodded.

"I will."

Impulsively, he wrapped his arms around his uncle and squeezed. "Thank you. I only wish I could repay you. But I can't. I have to ask you to do something, and you won't like it. _I _won't like it." He took a deep breath.

Madara pulled away, a horrified realization on his handsome face.

"_No._"

Itachi nodded, his expression regretful. "Yes. I'm sorry, oji-san. I have to ask. If you don't, I'll be blamed. He'll—my boss, I mean—will accuse me of not satisfying a valuable patron."

"Would he hurt you? If I refuse?" It sounded like a question, but Itachi heard it as it really was: as an admission of defeat.

Itachi nodded and hated Madara's wince. "Badly," he replied grimly.

**-POV Change—**

Madara's eyes were locked on Itachi's.

"How would he know?" Madara asked after a moment of silence, and immediately regretted it when he saw Itachi's delicate wince. For a moment, he was struck by the young man's beauty. He had a split second to feel the guilt before Itachi replied.

"He has cameras in your rooms," he said softly. "And he… does a… cavity check every now and again. We never know when."

Madara was momentarily struck dumb. How could his bastard brother sell Itachi to such a place? But he couldn't bother with that now.

"That's horrible," Madara offered weakly, but Itachi simply gave him a wry smile.

"At least your libido doesn't mind so much," he murmured with a humorless chuckle. Madara looked down in shock, noticing for the first time the straining bulge in the front of his dark blue jeans. "It will make this a little bit easier to do."

Madara looked up at his nephew in dismay. "Itachi…"

But the younger Uchiha shrugged delicately, and Madara had to give it to him; he didn't look hurt or disgusted. He simply looked sad.

"It's okay, oji-san. It's a natural reaction, from being in a room alone with a good looking man, discussing having sex." He paused, shuffling his feet nervously. He did that for a minute before he sighed and slipped the white cashmere robe off his shoulders. "Besides, oji-san… I'm the same."

Madara allowed himself a mere glance down and almost fainted in shock and arousal.

Itachi stood naked in front of him, his form lithe and beautiful, inches upon inches of ivory white skin. And when it came to Itachi's stilted sex… well, the man hadn't lied. It was hard and flushed… something Madara could not resist.

"I'm going to hate myself in the morning."

Itachi's smile was sad and tired. "So am I. But at least I'll be _alive _in the morning."

That reminded Madara that he was being an asshole. Really, besides the incest, there was nothing bad in it for him. Itachi—Itachi could die. And if he thought he'd be guilty in the morning for fucking him, he couldn't imagine how guilty he'd feel for being the cause of his dear nephew's death.

Madara felt as if his own self had done a 180. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so serious, yet how could he treat this with anything _but _seriousness? There was no way.

Itachi watched him fight out his inner battle and when it appeared that Madara's inner angel had lost, he fixed those lonely, scarred crimson eyes on his uncle and held out his arms. The elder Uchiha wasn't sure if he had lost his mind or not, but he closed his own eyes, took a deep breath, and stepped into them.

And Madara had obviously lost his mind, because his first thought was that Itachi smelled like lilac and rosemary. A combination he never would have thought of himself, but on Itachi, the scent was intoxicating. He buried the young man in his arms, just inhaling, trying to ignore the length pressed demandingly against his thigh, and his own pressed against Itachi's lower stomach.

Then he leaned down and whispered, "You smell good… almost like a woman."

Itachi pulled back with a flat expression. "I'm a stripper, not a cunt." Madara almost laughed, grateful that Itachi had said that. It lightened the mood, and helped make this whole situation seem less like rape. "Speaking of, would it be more comfortable with you if I prepared myself?"

"This really is nothing to you, isn't it?" Madara mused. Itachi gave him another wry smile.

"You try having any modesty after living here for four years," he retorted and Madara had to give him that. He wouldn't have any modesty either, if he were in Itachi's shoes.

"No," he sighed, finally answering Itachi's question. "Just let me take care of you. If you think about it, the situation is much worse for you than it is for me." Itachi raised any eyebrow, but his uncle could tell just how much of a relief that was to hear, even if for the simple fact that Madara understood.

Madara ran his hands up and down Itachi's sides for a moment before he sat down on the futon, gesturing for Itachi to straddle him. The man did so, locking his legs on either side of Madara's thighs.

"If anything, I hope you can enjoy this, despite the twisted nature of it," Madara offered him, and Itachi just shook his head.

"Please, just get this over with, oji-san."

Biting his lip, Madara nodded, letting one hand trail down to his nephew's ass. The other pulled him in close, trapping the raven's arousal between their bodies, but it was obvious Itachi didn't mind. Itachi's body gave a little start as Madara ran a finger over the puckered entrance and almost without thought, the elder shushed him, rubbing soothing circles into his upper thigh. Itachi forced his body to relaxed as that finger entered him, imitating the other hand.

Itachi's passage was tight, but not as tight as Madara would have liked for his nephew. It happened to interest Madara that apparently, Itachi enjoyed the dry, burning penetration his uncle was giving him, because Itachi was moaning instead of crying out in pain.

"Just how often have you been fucked?" he asked and he knew it was obvious there was more than curiosity in his tone. The anger had returned, at Fugaku, and at the man Itachi called "boss".

Of course, Madara couldn't help but ask as he was entering another finger, and followed the question up with raining light kisses down upon the young man's abdomen, so when Itachi replied, his voice was tight and husky.

"I—aah—don't know… ooh, twice a week, may—_ah_!" His eyes were screwed shut.

"Your body seems to have been trained well," Madara observed. "You respond better than a whore."

Itachi opened his eyes to glare at him, but when he opened his mouth to complain about Madara's comparison, nothing came out but a broken moan.

"I can't say that doesn't…" He inserted another finger, halting his previous scissoring motions to begin a search for the raven's prostate. "… _piss me off!_"

Itachi's eyes snapped open and a soft scream tore its way from his throat. "Aah!" he moaned as Madara smirked, rubbing his middle finger into that tight bundle of nerves. "I will so—ah—get you back for this one day!"

Madara couldn't help the throaty chuckle he gave. "I'd like to see you try, Itachi-kun."

At the moment, it was clear that Itachi wouldn't be trying at all; he was much too busy curling up over his uncle's body, his hands fisted tight in the long, silky black hair so much like his own.

"I'm going to enter you," Madara said when he was sure that he wouldn't hurt him. Itachi nodded quickly and his uncle could feel his hands trembling where they were lodged in his hair.

He pulled his fingers out of Itachi's entrance, ignoring how messy they were, and undid the button on his slacks. He pulled himself out, coating himself with Itachi's precum as he found nothing else available. He slid his hands to Itachi's hips and slowly guided them down. Ignoring the part of him that was screaming obscenities, that was calling him a sick bastard, he watched Itachi's expressions with more concentration than he had thought he possessed, enjoying the multiple emotions fluttering across his face.

The second the blunt head of his cock came into contact with Itachi's prepared entrance, he let out another moan and pushed Madara's hands away, slamming himself down.

Madara himself allowed himself a choked gasp, biting his lip only to notice a second later that Itachi had done the same thing. Without thinking, Madara leaned up and screwed himself over permanently. He captured Itachi's lips with his own, hungrily ravishing them. Itachi returned the kiss as enthusiastically, pulling on Madara's hair.

"I'm ready," he whispered. "Please—_fuck me_!"

Madara had taken the liberty to do as he asked before he even finished asking, pulling Itachi up and slamming him back down. He enjoyed the tight heat for a second more before he reversed their positions, throwing Itachi on his back. He slipped out and Itachi made a sound of protest before Madara returned, thrusting the entire length of his cock into Itachi's supple body.

He picked up a pace that he hoped none of Itachi's other patrons would have ever been able to match. He wanted to blow the memories of them away and replace them with this, this feeling of being _one_, no matter how wrong it was. Itachi himself wasn't complaining any; he was lifting his hips to meet each thrust, his head thrown back as he panted in ecstasy.

Three, five minutes past and suddenly, Itachi choked out a moan much louder than the rest and the walls of his passage closed down on Madara's erection as he came, blowing his load between their bodies.

The sensation overload was too much for Madara and he came as well, filling Itachi's beautiful ass with his own cum.

When it was over and they had regained their breath, Itachi shakily made to stand and clean himself off, as well as his uncle, but Madara just grabbed his wrist and pulled him back down into a tight embrace.

Tears welled in Itachi's eyes and while Madara held him, he cried until he gladly gave himself over to the demanding darkness that had been waiting to claim him.

-GIMME MY ASTRICTS BACK!—

"Itachi!"

"Itachi, wake up!"

Groggily, Itachi wiped the sleep from his eyes. He wasn't sure when he'd went to bed, but obviously, he'd been asleep for too long.

"Shit!" he cried when he realized what that meant. "Please, I'm sorry, I'll never—wait, Konan, Deidara, what are you doing here?"

Konan's face was alit. "Itachi, he's here! He just paid for you! You get to leave!"

Deidara, too, looked like Christmas had come early. "You would never guess what he did! He paid for us to go free! Said that we're your friends and we didn't deserve to be here!"

Itachi blinked at them in shock. "Who?" Konan and Deidara gave him a _duh _look.

"Well, Uchiha Madara, of course!" Konan said, knocking him playfully upside the head. Itachi's jaw dropped.

"But, if it was Madara-oji-san, how did he know about you two being my friends?" he asked, confused, but he couldn't help the swell of hope crushing his lungs and making it hard to breathe.

"It's amazing the things you say in your sleep," an amused voice said from the doorway, and he looked up to find his uncle standing there in the same clothes he had been wearing the night before. "I couldn't just leave these two here. They're your friends and I know how protective you are of people you care about. You can't have changed _that _much in two years, kid."

Itachi's eyes flashed at the 'kid', but he couldn't help the tears of happiness that were threatening to overwhelm him.

"You're welcome to stay with Itachi and I, you two, in case I haven't mentioned it. Until you get jobs and a places of your own," Madara added, but he was nearly cut off by the slighter male, who had practically hurled himself at the man, pulling him into a bruising kiss.

"Thank you!" he sobbed, letting Madara lift him off his feet and twirl him around for a simple moment of joy.

Madara kissed him lightly on the lips again. "Get packed, Itachi. Your friends already are."

Itachi was set back on stable ground and he was immediately in his closet, pulling out anything that didn't include a thong or a skirt.

After a moment of watching the ecstatic Uchiha, Madara chuckled and began to help, putting anything and everything into bags. When they were finished, Itachi didn't waste any time in bursting out the front doors to Follow Me Down, practically running toward the still running car parked outside that Madara had directed him toward. Laughing, his friends followed.

He jumped into the passenger seat at the same time Madara slid into the driver's, and before Madara could put his foot on the gas, Itachi pulled him in for yet another kiss.

"You've saved me." His smile was brilliant.

Madara just kissed him back and said, "We'll see. I'm not planning to let you just loiter around. That ass of yours is too gorgeous to give up—"

He was cut off by Itachi's laugher and slowly, he pulled out of the parking space his car had occupied since the night before and left the club, toward the first home Itachi had known in years.

He felt like he was glowing when the thought hit him. _Home._

He looked over at the Uchiha concentrating on the road and smiled to himself. He had a feeling that life was just beginning to get good.

**I know, I ended it on a somewhat cheesy note, but I couldn't think of a clever line to end it with, so it got stuck with… that. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed everyone! I put a lot of hard, uninspired work into this, so I hope I did okay! Did I feed your MadaIta monster, RML009? I hope so! :) **

**Kandakicksass**


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